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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



THE CITY OF 
TOIL AND DREAMS 



VERSE 



BY 

WM. CARY SANGER, Jr. 

AUTHOR OF 

"TIDES OF commerce" 



NEW YORK 

COUNTRY LIFE PRESS 

1916 



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Copyright, 1916, by 
WM. CARY SANGER, Jr. 



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This book is dedicated 

to 

MY FATHER AND MOTHER 



"The harvest truly is plenteous, but the laborers 
are few; Pray ye therefore the Lord of the harvest 
that he will send forth laborers into His harvest." 



Preface 

The verses in this volume were written while the 
author was at school and in college, some having 
been originally published in the Vindex of St. Mark's 
School during the years 1910-1912, and others in the 
Harvard Advocate from 1913-1916. The date at the 
end of each poem indicates the year when it was 
written. A few of the verses in this volume have 
not previously appeared in print. "Tides of Com- 
merce," by the same author, contains additional 
verses written while at school and in college. 

The writer wishes to thank those friends who have 
helped him by their criticisms, comments, and sug- 
gestions. 

W. C. S., Jr. 
New York City, 

April, 1916. 



THE CITY OF 
TOIL AND DREAMS 



Introduction — 1 91 2 

The cities of the world, with their intense concen- 
tration of active human life, offer the greatest field 
for the study and improvement of mankind. 

In the past, living conditions in cities have been un- 
wholesome and unsanitary beyond description. At 
certain times plagues swept away life from whole city 
blocks and entire urban districts, and even during the 
most favorable seasons the mortality was high. But as 
the centuries passed, cities began to improve ; and grad- 
ually a decided spirit of awakened civic interest com- 
menced to make itself felt. Men began to see clearly, 
and they realized that things not only could, but must, 
be improved, and as a result the living conditions in 
tenement districts were bettered; provision was made 
for more parks and playgrounds, public schools were 
remodeled, employment offices opened and, in short, a 
whole series of active and useful alterations were com- 
menced. 

Although conditions have been considerably bet- 
tered, the good work is by no means finished. In 
fact, it has only just begun, for in countless homes 
of the poorer quarters of the city, poverty, disease, 
degeneracy, and wretchedness still hold their piti- 

3 



Introduction 

less sway. Innumerable indeed are the unrecorded 
"legions of the damned." 

One thing, however, is encouraging: the tide has 
already turned and the cities are slowly becoming 
better. Nor should it be thought that cities are 
necessarily harmful to health. Cities are a natural 
economic development, and when properly planned 
and managed are certain to make wholesome, com- 
fortable and attractive places in which to live. 
Moreover, cities are capable of contributing marked 
benefits upon humanity which can be secured 
in no other way. The concentration of the many 
varied interests in cities makes it possible for the 
individual to obtain knowledge of any subject or 
group of subjects in a way which would be abso- 
lutely impossible outside of a city. Whether his 
interest be painting, music, architecture, writing, 
medicine, law, engineering, or any other line of ac- 
tivity, the individual will find in the cities the most 
abundant opportunities for the study of his field of 
interest — among a host of kindred people who are 
specializing in the same subject, and in addition will 
find a large number of critics and masters who are 
the guiding spirits in their particular line. 

And so it is with every one and with each field of 
interest. The city is the means — and the only 
means — of giving to humanity certain privileges and 
blessings which go far towards ennobling and enrich- 

4 



Introduction 

ing mankind — by extending the individual's sphere 
of life and by giving him the opportunity for the 
realization of his dreams. 

In order to secure to the fullest extent the benefits 
which a municipality is capable of giving, the city 
must not only be clean and wholesome, but also 
beautiful. The importance of this has gradually 
come to be realized. Civic and landscape archi- 
tects are planning for the remodeling and beau- 
tifying of streets and avenues on an extended scale, 
while drawings are being made for the development of 
civic centers to be surrounded by groups of public 
buildings of harmonious architecture. The city 
planners provide, moreover, that avenues and boule- 
vards shall be further improved and interconnected 
in such a way that the whole vast scattered system 
may at last become welded into one attractive and 
harmonious unit. 

Along with the architectural improvement there 
must be the steady development of the intellectual, 
physical and moral character of the people, for only 
with a strong and sturdy moral fibre in its men and 
women can the material development of the city ful- 
fill its highest purpose. The physical perfection of 
the city would then become a symbol of the lives of 
its inhabitants. 

Such, then, is the dream of the Builders, and 
slowly — so slowly — but nevertheless surely, that 

5 



Introduction 

dream is being realized. A seemingly limitless amount 
of work has yet to be done; but time and deter- 
mination will conquer all things in the end. Already 
the signs of the awakening are at hand. Each 
department of every city seems to be catching 
at least some gleam of the dawn, and not only the 
vast commercial stores and office buildings of the 
cities but even the great railroad terminals are being 
built with a view to architectural beauty as well as 
to efficient service. 

Looking at the panorama of a great city of the 
present day, and striving to comprehend the industry 
and power for which it stands, with its glorious, puls- 
ing, active life, its continual work of reconstruction 
and betterment, and its granite buildings and towers 
reared against the sky, there comes a vision of that 
city in the future — a new and reawakened city, a 
greater and infinitely better city — the city that is 
to be. 

If this little book succeeds in creating a greater 
interest in civic problems, and an added appreciation 
of the pathos, romance and beauty to be found in 
every city, it will have accomplished the purpose for 
which it was written. 

1912. W. C. S., Jr. 

P. S. September 25, 1915. The European War 
has now continued for more than a year. The world 

6 



Introduction 

can appreciate better than ever what unparalleled and 
gruesome carnage war with present-day weapons 
involves and can perhaps foresee what future inter- 
national combat would be with mechanical inven- 
tions as yet undreamed of but certain to be de- 
veloped. Just as past ages could not clearly imagine 
the present machinery of war we can only dimly 
guess at the wholesale weapons of destruction which 
future ages could perfect and apply. We can under- 
stand to-day how great are the losses of war — ethni- 
cally, eugenically and financially. Some of war's 
losses, however, we cannot count. The misery and 
agony of the wounded soldiers can never be tabulated 
on paper, nor can statistics record the wretchedness 
and anguish of the bereaved families at home. 
Moreover, no figures can ever tell us of the loss to the 
world from the death on the battlefield of scientists, 
painters, musicians, sculptors, writers, teachers, and 
all that host of able and conscientious men whose 
lives, had they been spared, would have enriched and 
ennobled mankind. 

Try to imagine the feelings of such men — who 
at the outbreak of the war, in obedience to their 
sense of honor, volunteer — leaving their homes and 
families and their life's work, to which in their prayers 
they had dedicated their all — forced by circumstances 
to kill other such men as they, who, like them, had 
striven to uplift the world by their efforts, and whose 

7 



Introduction 

only reason for being killed was that they happened 
to be on the " other side." 

No — the world must not permit war to continue. 
It has been "weighed in the balance and found 
wanting." 

The spirit of combat when properly curbed and 
sensibly utilized is a blessing to all individuals, and 
must hereafter be developed and given abundant op- 
portunity to find expression in universally practiced 
and vigorous athletics — but not in international war. 

An International Police Force of the armies and 
navies of the great nations of the world must be de- 
veloped to uphold and make effective by force when 
needed the decisions of an International Court (such 
as the Hague Tribunal) and thus secure the peace of 
the world. This plan, which has been suggested by 
various individuals and has recently been much dis- 
cussed by newspapers and magazines, seems to be 
the most sensible and effective yet proposed. When 
all countries came to recognize the sanctity of the 
International Court's decrees, the police forces of the 
world powers could be very considerably reduced in 
size. 

As a preliminary step towards the creation of an In- 
ternational Police Force a practical and effective plan 
is being developed which has for its object the estab- 
lishment among the World Powers of a "League to 
Enforce Peace." All the great nations of the earth 

8 



Introduction 

would be signatories to this League and would agree 
to have recourse to a Court of Arbitration for decid- 
ing all justiciable questions and a Council of Concili- 
ation for all such as were non- justiciable, before 
adopting any hostile measures. The League would 
further provide that any nation which should fail to 
abide by the terms of the agreement would be debarred 
from economic opportunities, privileges and trade 
rights with the rest of the League, and should this 
measure fail, the League would use its combined 
armies and navies to enforce submission to its laws. 

Until the International Police Force is developed it 
is necessary and right for each nation to arm itself to 
a reasonable degree for the purpose of protecting itself 
against foreign invasion. Ultra-pacifist and ' ' peace at 
any price" policies are as dangerous as they are un- 
sound. The military and naval forces which are de- 
veloped should be maintained, however, solely for 
defense — and not for the purpose of invading foreign 
soil except as might be necessary in order to fulfill 
the police duties of the League to Enforce Peace. 
And at the same time that a nation prepares it- 
self with reasonable and adequate military and naval 
armaments for defense, it should strive without ceasing 
for the establishment of a permanent International 
Police Force into which its own army and navy, along 
with the armies and navies of all other nations, would 
eventually be merged. But while a nation is adopt- 

9 



Introduction 

ing reasonable armaments for defense it must not 
neglect the most important object to be achieved — 
namely: the education of the people in the interests of 
International Conciliation. Justice, common sense, 
and rightousness among the nations will then be based 
upon the surest foundation — the knowledge and will 
of the people. 

A question of vital importance is, how soon can 
permanent international peace be established? But 
before this is to be positively accomplished, great 
and perplexing problems await the present and com- 
ing generations. Old traditions are hard to break; 
old national jealousies will for a long time smoulder. 
The world needs new empire builders for old. States- 
men must arise who will look with justice and kind- 
ness beyond the borders of their own countries, 
knowing and understanding the universal brotherhood 
of man. And in that day, the cities of the world 
will come into their own. Men will not destroy 
them with siege-gun, fire and sword. 

To-day the path of the armies of war is strewn with 
desolation and death. Broken wagons and artillery 
pieces lie scattered over the plains along with the 
battered bodies of the wrecks that once were men. 
The smoke of burning homes and cities drifts far up 
into the weird gray heavens, and as night comes on, 
the burning towns and cities cast their strange red 
light against the lonely skies. 

10 



Introduction 

But To-morrow all will be changed. When that 
To-morrow of International Peace does come, men 
will no longer blindly destroy what has been so care- 
fully upbuilded. In the fields there will be a different 
harvest and in the cities there will be a brighter dawn. 



11 



A Creed of the Harbor 

I believe in you, great harbor, 

And great city; 

I believe in your courage, 

Your toil, 

And your dreams. 

Slowly but surely form the city of Yesterday and 

To-day. 
You are building a new and infinitely wonderful 
City of To-morrow. 
I was born at your gates 
And have watched and loved you 
Through the years: 
Your ships and docks, your towering buildings, your 

streets black with humanity, 
I have watched the intense and ceaseless struggle 
Within your soul 
The passionate striving of the forces of good and 

evil. 
I believe that you shall be victorious, great harbor 

and city. 
I believe in your To-morrow. 
Yet there are many who have hated you 

13 



The City of Toil and Dreams 

And feared you 

And cursed you. 

Cursed you for your power and pride, 

Cursed you for your merciless crushing of their 
bodies and their souls. 

Seeing only the driftwood and the refuse 

Floating beside some old, uncared-for wooden dock, 

Not seeing 

Your clean, new granite docks and piers — 

Heedless of your white stone towers 

Against the summer skies, 

Neglecting to see the 

Taintless tide come rolling in to your distant, sandy 
beaches. 

Your problems I have studied 

And striven to aid in their solution; 

I know your dingy and 

Mournfully dilapidated tenement districts 

— The squalor and wretchedness, 

The overcrowding — dim, ill- ventilated corridors. 

Where the single gas jet 

Flickers and flares 

So fitfully and drearily, 

Casting weird shadows along the crumbling wall- 
paper of the narrow hallway. 

I have also beheld your new and splendid monuments 
of granite: 

Civic buildings 

14 



A Creed of the Harbor 

Dedicated to the service of the people. 

And I have seen your great schools and other munici- 
pal structures 

Built worthy of the Children of To-morrow 

Whom they shall fashion and consecrate. 

I have loved you, great harbor and city, 

Your tireless energy 

Your continual work of improvement and recon- 
struction. 

I have watched your subways and foundations 

Being built by day and night: — 

Weirdly wonderful at night 

With torches and electric lamps 

Lighting up the faces of the workmen 

And casting strange shadows 

On the structural work 

In the midst of the cavernous rock ledges 

Far, far below the street level. 

And by day I have watched your steel-girded sky- 
scrapers being built 

Away up into the clouds, 

With tiny specks of workmen 

Standing or walking along narrow steel beams and 
projecting girders 

Silhouetted against the sky. 

I have seen your docks and steamers 

By day and night 

Beloved harbor. 

15 



The City of Toil and Dreams 

I have looked out upon you and traveled upon your 
tides in the 

Dawns and in the sunsets, 

In rain and fog, in mist and snow. 

I have known you in the spring and in the fall, in 
summer and in winter 

At high noon and by starlight and moonlight. 

I have been refreshed and rested in your parks, 

Uplifted and inspired by your energy and strength 
and patience. 

I know that in your soul there is a depth of kind- 
ness and love 

Past all believing, 

For I have seen your striving and toiling in your search 

For the truth 

And the light 

And the right. 

I believe in you for I know that: — 

Where there is a granite monument 

There also is a builder's dream. 

1915. 



16 



In the City of Toil and Dreams 

City of Toil and Dreams, 
City of might and power, 
Splendor undying gleams 
Proudly each hour. 
Sorrow and sin and shame 
Often attend thee. 
Honor and praise and fame 
Millions extend thee. 

Dawn — and the shadows fade. 
From wall and excavation 
The laborer with pick and spade 
(Brawn of the nation) 
Gazes with sunlit eyes 
His tired soul uplifting 
Where in the morning skies 
Bright clouds are drifting. 

Noon — in the canon streets 
Pulses the tide so proudly 
Traffic that rolls and beats 
Steadily, loudly. 
17 



The City of Toil and Dreams 

Sullen, grim halls and marts, 
Often their star-dreams hiding, 
Yet — in their heart of hearts 
Love is abiding. 

Sunset — the tired throng 

In street and square and byway 

Endlessly streams along 

Avenue, highway. — 

All to their homes go back, 

The traffic's roar increasing, 

Crowds over bridge and track 

Pass without ceasing. 

Night — and the stars on high 
Twinkle their friendly greeting, 
Shadows are passing by 
Lovers are meeting. 
Silent the moonbeams play 
Dancing and gleaming 
Now the great city may 
Turn to its dreaming. 

Deep in thy starry night 
Sleep through each mystic hour 
While the moons slanting light 
Tips roof and tower; 
18 



In the City of Toil and Dreams 

In thy mortality 
Angels belove thee, 
For immortality 
Watches above thee. 



City of Toil and Dreams, 
City of might and power, 
Splendor undying gleams 
Proudly each hour. 
Sorrow and sin and shame 
Often are near thee, 
Kindness and love and fame 
To all endear thee. 



1915. 



19 



The Legions of the Damned 

There's a host that's scattered afar and near, 

A miserable, hopeless crew, 
The poor tattered army of unemployed, 

Whose chances in life are few. 
Some call them worthless vagabonds 

And think their misery shammed, 
Some call them wrecks, while some believe 

They're the legions of the damned. 



It's all very well for the rest to say 

That there's plenty of work to do, 
But, perhaps, if their luck wasn't quite so good, 

Even they might be derelicts too, 
Lost in the host of the unemployed 

And doomed to sink in the end; 
Drifting along to the gates of death, 

For want of a helping friend. 

And the world forgets that years ago, 

Near the Mediterranean Sea, 
A pilot saved the helpless ships 

On the waters of Galilee; 
20 



The Legions of the Damned 

He came to this world to seek the lost 
To care for the sick and the poor, 

And to bring the wrecks on the sea of life 
To the ports of the other shore. 



But the world forgets, and they drift along, 

Derelicts, here and there, 
While the ships that pass haven't time to pause 

(For the world hasn't time to care) ; 
So drifting out on the sea of life 

Awash, with the rudder jammed, 
And the rocks to clear, but no pilot near, 

Go the legions of the damned. 



1910. 



21 



The Vision of His Work 

The mist of early morning clears away, 

And sunlight comes — along the harbor vast, 

Derrick and dock and steamer wake again; 

And buildings of the city come to view; 

Great offices that tower to the skies, 

Resplendent in the warmth and majesty 

Of golden fire — that flares across the bay 

And tips with flame a thousand window panes. 

Beyond the curving Battery's ferry-slips, 

Across the sunlit harbor there appears 

The outline of the distant westward shore. 

The day-shift dockers now come swarming in 

To wharf and yard, while steamers ring with work 

Of loading and unloading — blocks and spars 

Rattle and creak and groan, as derricks swing. 

The salty tide with endless lapping wash 

Mutters and slips and eddies round the piles 

Of time-worn docks where ships have moored for 

years ; 
And whistles of the harbor craft ring out, 
Echoing back from wall and wharf and pier, 
While far above, the white gulls cry and wheel. 
And as the wakened harbor shines and gleams 

22 



The Vision of His Work 

In all the glory of the morning light, 
The Vision of His work comes sure and clear 
And leads the way, and beckons ever on, 
And says to each, "Come on, begin your work, 
However small and humble it may seem, 
Each little helps — the harvest here is great, 
Good laborers are few — begin your work." 
And from some harbor craft far up the bay 
A whistle seems to call — "Begin your Day." 



1912. 



23 



Snowstorm 

(Seen from the observation gallery of a skyscraper 

tower) 

Over the tops of the buildings, 

Drifting, swirling snow, 

Falling far down, down, 

And losing itself in the gray-white mist of drifting 
flakes below. 

The canon streets are lost somewhere in the whiteness, 

Little snow flurries gather and sweep along the near- 
by ledge of the granite coping and dizzy cornice 

And whirling far out are lost in the dim, white abyss. 

For a moment the storm slackens, 

First the summits of other great buildings appear: 

Granite towers looming out of the grayness, 

Then come roofs of other lesser buildings far below, 

Lastly, way, way down are seen the snow-gray streets 

With tiny specks of people and trolleys 

Crawling slowly along. 

Again the storm increases: 

The streets disappear, 

And soon the other giant office-buildings are lost to 
view. 

24 



Snowstorm 

The great tower trembles in the storm 

As the gale roars and moans and batters 

Around the corners, 

And the countless snowflake squadrons 

Whirling from the sullen skies above 

Go pelting and flying and eddying past the great 

tower 
And are lost — 
Far, far, below — 
In the grayness of the vague abyss. 



1915. 



25 



To 

I often wonder, dear, 
If in the day 

Or in the moonlit stillness of the night, 
When I so often wish that you were near 
To make the quiet hours glad and bright; 
Oh, most alluring girl of dreams and play; 
Child of my hopes through all eternity, 
Perfect in all, and with a heart so true, 
I wonder when I think and dream of you 
If you are also thinking then of me. 



1915. 



26 



Under the Bridge 

Only the great, dim bridge, 

Far — very far above, and the stars, 

Dreaming lazily in the warm, still night. 

Along the quiet river banks 

The sleepy buildings of the city, 

Shadowy, vague — blue-gray in the dimness. 

The lights along the bank 

Burn low — 

Here and there on the star-lit tide 

Dark moving outlines of boats, 

Drowsy toilers of the harbor 

Each with lights: white, red and green, 

That glide beneath them in the calm languid water. 

The city is very tired to-night, 

Wistfully thinking of half -forgotten yesterdays 

Or yearning to-morrows. 

There is sadness and magic wonder in the moonlight, 

A boat glides slowly under the great dim bridge, 

And the stars dream lazily in the sky 

Above the tired harbor 

As it sleeps. 

1915. 

27 



Lincoln Memorial 

(Bronze Statue) 

Gaunt — in his humble, homely wrinkled suit, 
Rugged and grim, unswerving, resolute — 
Kindly upon the sadness of the town 
The great Emancipator gazes down. 

But see — the sunset glow has touched the bronze, 
Lighting the homely, kindly saddened face 
With sympathy and charity for all, 
While here and there about the monument 
Are little groups of people — Now a man, 
White-haired and halting in his feeble step, 
Comes slowly shambling near and leans upon 
His walking stick and gazes fondly up 
Into the sunlit face — seeming to feel 
An inspiration in that life so firm, 
So sad, so sympathetic — then he pauses, 
Bows his head and hobbles on again. 
A widow next approaches — with a child, 
And pointing upward to the glowing bronze 
Half whispers a few words that linger long 
Within the memory of the wondering boy. 

28 



Lincoln Memorial 

A careless group of idlers saunter up 

— But hush their laughter and subdue their tones, 

Standing together there in silent thought. 

And so throughout the restless, changing hours 

The tired and the weary and the sick 

Pause for a moment in their hurried course 

And then — go on with courage, hope and strength 

To face the endless problems of their lives. 



Gaunt — in his humble, homely wrinkled suit, 
Patient and firm, unswerving, resolute — 
Kindly upon the sadness of the town 
The great Emancipator gazes down. 



1913. 



29 



The Price 
(Voices from the shadows of the great city) 

In the glow of the early morning 
When Time stretched out before, 
And life was the life of the moment, 
And no sentinel guarded the door 
To the paths of sin and pleasure, 
We played as it pleased us most; 
Did what a thousand others 
Have done without counting the cost. 
We went where our will directed, 
Went and were not afraid — 
But now we know when the day is done 
How dear was the price we paid. 

1913. 



30 



Cathedral Builders 

I am only a poor workman on a great Cathedral. 
But I praise the Master Builder 
That I am allowed to do my share in the building. 
Reverently I help to swing the great stone blocks 

into their places; 
Where they shall rest 
Until the end of the world. 
And every evening at sunset, 
When the day's work is done, 
I look backward 

And see with joy that the Cathedral is growing, 
And I know 
That the work is good. 



1915. 



31 



Evening Calm 

When all the tumult of the day is past, 
And evening shadows move across the walls 
Of towering buildings — looming dim and vast 
From sombre streets, where deeper darkness falls; 
There comes to me a calmness and a rest 
That stills the troubled soul and brings it peace 
Like the reposeful dreaming of the blest 
That after life's long journey find release. 



1916. 



32 



The Gift of the Warriors 

To you we now bequeath that peace 

Which was not ours to know, 

Freedom, security — release 

From dangers of the foe. 

The foreign ranks shall not again 
Burnt cities trample under, 
Nor shall the hosts across the plain 
Sweep with their steel and thunder. 

To you we give that needed rest 

Which was not ours to find; 

Each night you sleep serenely — blest — 

At peace in heart and mind. 

No longer shall the dull red glow 
Flare in the smoke-dimmed heaven 
Whose flaming cloud-belts weirdly show 
Where countless hosts have striven. 



And unto you we give that fame 
Which was not ours to share: 
The glory of a sculptor's name 
A writer's words of prayer. 

33 



The City of Toil and Dreams 

For we had dreamed our glorious dreams, 
Each in his field of knowing, 
But we laid them by — for war's dull gleams, 
The hope of our life foregoing. 

To you we give those hours of love 
That we so early lost 
For war had called on us to prove 
Our faith — whate'er the cost. 

The joys of home and fireside: 

A woman's soft caresses 

And children's laughter — merry-eyed, 

The love that cheers and blesses. 

And unto you the dawn we give 

Which is not ours to see, 

To you and yours the right to live, 

In thought and action — free. 

To you we give the morning light 
On lake and hillside streaming 
And flashing on the city 's height 
With colors bright and gleaming. 

For you the freedom and the life — 
For us an unknown grave 
After an agony of strife 
That others we might save. 

34 



The Gift of the Warriors 

Yet we rejoice that in our pain 
Our sacrifice and sorrow 
We may bequeath to you our gain 
The everlasting Morrow. 

January, 1916. 



35 



To You 

(At the ages of 10, 20, 45, and 70 years.) 

To you, because of your youth; 
Because of your faith and trust — 
Hold to your visions of truth: 
Dust may not build on dust. 

To you, because you are strong, 
And sound of body and limb; 
On — though the toil be long, 
On — though the work be grim. 

To you, who serve in the field, 
Bearing the brunt of the fight; 
Battle till wrong shall yield, 
Blaze the trail of the right. 

To you, whose life has been long: 
Teach the old law — ever new: 
Bid them be clean and strong, 
Kindly, and wise and true. 

1913. 

36 



In the Name of the Master 

Blind — we kneel in darkness 
Oh grant us of Thy sight. 

Come near us Great Physician 
And lead us to the light. 



Deaf — we ask Thy mercy; 

But touch each waiting ear 
That we may know the glory 

Of the truth we long to hear. 



Sick — in pain and helpless, 

Through anguish none may tell; 

We long to hear the message 
That alone can make us well. 



Lame — we lack the power 
To serve Thee in Thy War. 

Heal us — that we may follow 
To battle-lines afar. 
37 



The City of Toil and Dreams 

Lost — we need a Captain; 

Oh grant us in our strife — 
Thy wisdom, strength and courage: 

Thy guidance in our life. 



1913. 



38 



Snow 

Snow 

Falling snow 

And o'er the sombre city stained and gray 

The countless flakes come drifting down below 

In silent hosts of white — serenely, slow, 

Throughout the day. 



Still 

Calm and still 

The pulsing city's sullen murmur dies 

For now the evening hours come — until 

Only the night and snowy squadrons fill 

The winter skies. 



Clean 

Fresh and clean 

To-night the city rests in quiet sleep 

And over all its myriad homes a sheen 

Of downy whiteness falls — a mystic scene 

Of stillness deep. 

39 



The City of Toil and Dreams 

All, 

One and all 

The dwellings of the rich and poor are white 

With Heaven's stainless snowy flakes that fall 

On window ledge and chimney, roof and wall 

Throughout the night. 



1915, 



40 



On Christmas Eve 

Toys in a bright shop window, 

A child forlorn and chilled, 

Who stands and looks at the trains and books; 

— And a dream that is not fulfilled. 



Houses of stone and granite. 

A tramp, in passing by 

A moment waits — at the iron gates 

— And a hope that is doomed to die. 

A mother and child by the fire, 

A mother and child in the street, 

A dream and a prayer, a sigh of despair 

— And a heart that will learn defeat. 

Quiet and peace in the city; 
Over the sleeping town 
The stars on high in the moonlit sky 
In pity and love look down. 

February, 1916. 

41 



To a Young Girl 

You did not know, 

When we were talking together last evening, 

Carelessly speaking of trivial things 

Whiling away time 

You did not know 

That in my heart 

I beheld you as the perfection of the creative work 
of the Master Builder 

Who builded the Stars and the Earth 

And the Children of Immortality to inherit the 
Earth. 

You did not see — for the light was dim — 

That once or twice tears came to my eyes, 

I, who have seen — so often — 

Other Children of Immortality 

Like unto you in soul 

But most pitifully tired and sick and helpless in 
body; 

Imprisoned in the heat and shadows of great cities. 

Wherefore it was with a feeling almost akin to wor- 
ship 

That I beheld you 

Who are so fresh, so undefiled and so happy. 

42 



To a Young Girl 

I shall not soon forget our little talk together last 

evening, 
When we spoke of various trivial things — 
Carelessly, lightheartedly. 

1915. 



43 



Prayer 

(Easter Eve) 

Oh — to-night the city needs Thee, and a million 

hearts are calling, 
Heed their misery and anguish — Thou who knowest 

well their pain, 
Send abroad Thy host of workers who shall change 

the old conditions 
Till the last great Easter morning comes to reign. 



1912. 



44 



Voices 

(From the depths of the city) 

Well — our story's just the same 

As the rest who've tried the game, 

For we've played our hand like other fools, — and lost 

it in the end. 
We've thrown our chance away, 
And learned just what we pay; 
God — we haven't even got one honest friend. 



Oh, the life beyond remaking, 
And the horror of the waking, 
When the reeling dawn creeps upward with its 

ghastly mocking light. 
And we live through years of pain 
Till the shadows fall again 
And we face another hopeless, endless night. 



Yes — we've lost the bygone years 
And there's little left that cheers, 

45 



The City of Toil and Dreams 

For the harvest days are over when we might have 

worked and won. 
So we'll stagger on, God knows 
Till the final chapters close 
And the useless, endless life at last is done. 

1912. 



46 



The Doctor 

(With acknowledgments to the author of "Gunga 

Din") 

Yes, I knew the doctor well, 

And if only I could tell 

You of his work and all he did to lessen pain, 

You'd understand the story 

Of a life that reaped no glory 

Yet deserved the richest tribute man can gain. 

Where the pulse of traffic beat, 

On the overcrowded street; 

And the city's roar and clatter filled the air; 

Where lust and crime and thirst 

Brought conditions to the worst, 

You'd be sure to find the doctor working there. 

Though the doctor too was poor, 
Yet he'd go from door to door 
Of the "East Side" in the night and in the day; 
And he'd help them one and all, 
For he never failed a call, . 
Though he knew he wasn't getting any pay. 

47 



The City of Toil and Dreams 

A friend of his once said : 

"It's too hopeless — they're soon dead, 

Anyhow — just drop the place and come with me"; 

But he answered (pointing down 

To his section of the town), 

"That's the very place a doctor ought to be." 

And now his work is done, 

And perhaps the doctor's gone 

To a place that knows no sin, or pain, or fear; 

But it's ten to one, you know, 

That he chose to go below 

Helping those who need him most — As he did here. 

1911. 



48 



Driftwood of the Seas 

Through the channels of the city, 
Wheresoe 'er the tide may please, 
Drift the legions — helpless, hopeless, 
As the driftwood of the seas. 



1911, 



49 



The Verdict 

Oh tell us which is greatest : the Captain of Finance, 

Or the toiler with his pick and bar and spade; 

The youthful happy heiress who leads the glittering 

dance, 
Or the other child — half fed and underpaid? 



Oh tell us who is conqueror: the general on the field 
Who knows that all the nation calls him "friend," 
Or the invalid who battles with a foe that will not 

yield, 
Yet smiles and keeps up courage to the end? 



And tell us which is greatest : the men who think they 

know, 
Or the unassuming, trusting little child? 
" But wasn't there an answer in the ages long ago, 
Who was it, now, on whom the Master smiled?" 

50 



The Verdict 

Oh tell us which is greatest — for the crimson sunset 

light 
Descends on rich and poor, and high and low? 
"The verdict is not spoken till the ending of the 

night." 
Forgive us Lord, for who are we to know? 

1913. 



51 



Ta a Girl 

I miss you — little friend — I never knew 
How dear you were until we said good-bye, 
Do you remember now the sombre sky 
Sunset, and ash of roses, and gray -blue? 
Do you recall the words I spoke to you, 
And you to me? The darkening clouds on high 
Weirdly and coldly told of winter nigh. 
How quickly then the happy moments flew; 

And now so many, many miles away 

I dream of you, and you of me I know; 
How often since that well-remembered day 
Have I recalled the sunset and the glow 
And in the land of Memory at last 
Lived once again our dreamlife of the past. 



1915, 



52 



America's Mission 

Let this be thy mission, America, 

First to make thyself 

Worthy of the noblest dreams that ever thou hast 

dreamt. 
Forgetting not to learn from other lands 
Such teachings as they have to offer thee. 
And then, 

Thus having learned and builded, 
Go thou forth; 

Not with a sword, but with a scroll 
And bid the backward lands, 
To learn what thou in turn can'st offer them: 
Liberty, 
Truth, 
Democracy, 

The brotherhood of all the nations of the earth, 
Dwelling in faith and light. 
And when to thee shall come 
Strangers from foreign shores 
May they behold 
Thy monuments of bronze, 
Thy buildings vast of granite 

53 



The City of Toil and Dreams 

Against the skies of blue, 

And seeing may they know 

That these 

Stand as the outward symbols 

Of the courage and the freedom of thy Soul. 

March, 1916. 



54 



Homeward Bound 

For years I've lived afar, 
But now the battle's won, 
The ages of toil are passed 
And the work of my life is done; 
My home lies far away, 
And oh, the relief from pain, 
When at the close of the day 
I turn to mine own again; 
Turn to those long-lost paths: 
The haunts of my early trails, 
When I lived in a world I loved : 
— A world of tides and rails. 
Those who love their own 
They well can understand 
My longing for my own: — 
My own beloved land. 



Though years have intervened 
My thoughts have been with you still 
Each mile of the glistening rails 
Each city and river and hill 
55 



The City of Toil and Dreams 

Of the well-remembered land 
Has cheered me through my life, 
And led me ever on 
Through toil and pain and strife. 

But now the night is gone 

And I'm off for my home again; 

Off for the trails I love 

And the city that soothes my pain: 

— The city beside the sea 

Where the glorious harbor lies, 

With its towers of steel and stone 

That mount to the very skies: — 

And every ship and train 

That I long have loved and known 

Will welcome me back again 

— When I return to mine own. 



1912. 



56 



L' Envoi 

Sleep — great city — sleep, 
The silver moon rides high, 
The tide so calm and deep 
About thy gates goes by; 
Far in the summer sky 
The myriad stars look down 
On granite tower and office wall, 
Humble dwelling and marble hall, 
The drowsy moonlight softens all, 
— Over the great gray town. 



Turn to your needed rest, 
City of toil and dreams, 
High in the starlit west 
The white moon softly gleams, 
The tired city seems 
To drowse in the dim, warm night. 
On wall and housetop — high and low; 
Shadows of black — and silver glow, 
Where the slanting moonbeams fall below, 
With mystic, starry light. 
57 



The City of Toil and Dreams 

Wanderer — ragged and sad — 
Lay down your head to rest; 
Maiden — radiant, glad, 
Pause in your joyous quest, 
(For the Angel of Sleep has blest 
Each one — ere they close their eyes;) 
Dancer — dream of your love at the ball. 
Wanderer — dream of a marble hall, 
For in sleep you are equal — one and all 
By the glow of the star-dim skies. 



Sleep — great city — sleep, 

The drowsy moon rides high 

The tide so still and deep 

About thy gates goes by, 

Far in the warm night sky 

The pitying stars look down 

On home and tenement — tower and wall, 

Prison and hospital, house and hall, 

The kindly moonlight softens all, 

— Over the great, gray town. 



1915, 



58 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS 



Star of the West 

They come from the other lands, 

Lands of a by-gone day, 

From the rule of a tyrant's hands 

And a dream that has passed away. 

Poverty, loss and pain, 

Ignorance, — endless toil, 

Have been their measure of gain 

From a worn-out, blood-stained soil. 

They have been crushed and torn; 
There has been slaughter and strife; 
Their lands are wasted and worn, 
And they need new hope and life. 
So they come where the great ship rides 
And they pray that they may have rest, 
As they follow the star that guides — 
Star of the West. 

The gangway soon is crossed, 
The twilight dies away, 
The afterglow is lost, 
And the great, dim night holds sway. 
61 



The City of Toil and Dreams 

Beyond the westward bar, 
The sea is dark and vast; 
But the wanderers see a Star 
That shall guide them home at last. 

The liner swings from the dock, 

The Lighthouse Cape is cleared, 

She passes the last lone rock 

And her course for the West is steered. 

The travellers gaze on high 

As they sail from a land oppressed, 

And they see Thee afar in the sky — 

Star of the West. 



Star of our steadfast dream — 
Liberty— Truth- 
Long may thy splendor gleam, 
Leading our youth 
Bright in Thy nobler sky, 
Radiant — blest, 
Guide, as the years go by, 
Star of the West. 



1914. 



62 



Space 

Into the void of space: 
Beyond the sight of our eyes, 
Telescopes barely trace 
The nearer stars of the skies. 

And beyond the feeble zone 
Of our latest and greatest lens: 
Ultimate, vast, unknown, 
The universe extends. 

Moved by resistless force 
Through interstellar night, 
Suns, in their ordered course, 
Glow in majestic flight. 

In the stormy abyss of space 
Nebulae flare and swirl; 
Comets through star-dust race 
Luminous meteors whirl 

And flash through the starry swarm 
Where the lights of the universe glow 
While newer planets form 
Above, around, below. 
63 



The City of Toil and Dreams 

Born in terrestrial strife, 
To the law of the universe true, 
Worlds, after aeons of life, 
Die — to be born anew. 

Infinite endless change, 
Limitless space and time, 
Systems of worlds that range 
Over their course sublime: 

Ever eternal life — 
Ever recurring death — 
Ever the dying strife — 
Ever the waking breath. 

And little enough we know; 
Little enough we see 
Of what the worlds can show. 
Pitiful — what we are? 

But this at least we find 
In the starry realms of awe: 
An all-controlling mind; 
A universal law. 

1913. 



G4 



To a Coquette 

They said you were hard-hearted, 

And cruel and vain, 

Thinking only of your own pleasure and happiness, 

Planning your campaign of conquests 

At each ball or entertainment which you attended, 

And caring far more for the perfection of your deli- 
cately suggestive dress 

Than for a world of infinitely better things. 

But though many people more or less disapproved of 
your hard-heartedness, 

They all admitted you were beautiful 

And charming 

And alluring — 

Wherefore I desired to meet you and see for myself 

What you were like. 

I found that you were indeed a coquette — 

Apparently quite hard-hearted, 

And yet there was something in your eyes and in your 
manner 

That told of a warmth and tenderness 

Of heart and soul 

Beneath the exterior of light-hearted and trivial 
frivolity. 

65 



The City of Toil and Dreams 

And one day this was proved to me; 

For as we sat talking together 

An old, old man, bent over with age and infirmity, 

Walked slowly past along the nearby road 

Tapping his walking stick on the pavement, 

His head bent to see the road before him and guide 
his slow footsteps, 

Though now and again he looked up to the blue 
sky and white clouds at the distant horizon 

As though at something he would not see for long. 

As you watched him 

I saw your eyes fill with tears — 

Although you tried to hide it from me, 

As soon as you knew I knew, 

By looking away and calling my attention to some- 
thing in the other direction — 

Soon we resumed our former carelessly happy con- 
versation 

And after dinner that evening 

I saw you half pause before a full-length mirror 

And glance alluringly over your shoulder 

At your reflection; 

Then, seemingly satisfied, pass on to the ballroom 

Where conquests awaited you. 



1915. 



66 



Worlds in the Making 

Through the endless night, 
Through the void astray; 
Limitless in flight, 
Star-dust drifts away. 



Ceaseless radiation 
Whirls the dust afar, 
Ceaseless gravitation 
Forms it in a star. 

Thus a world is made; 
Thus it takes its place, 
Where its course is laid 
In unending space. 



1913. 



67 



Broken Hearts 

It is strange to see you unhappy. 

You who were always so light-hearted: 

A princess among coquettes, 

You who are so sought after and admired by all 

men. 
Careless breaker of hearts. 
It is strange to see you yourself heartbroken 
And we — whose hopes you have so lightly dashed 

aside 
We, who loved you and thought you loved us 
In days gone by 
Sympathize with you 
And long to make you happy 
(For we have forgiven you, and worship you now 

as in the past) 
And — were we able — would gladly 
Restore your lover to you 
But this may not be, dear girl. 
You know now what pain is 
For your lover loves another girl 
Better than you. 

1915. 

68 



Rivals 

The two girls were rivals. 

They had first met a week before 

And since then had only seen each other once or 
twice — at dances. 

But each knew that both were beautiful — 

Hence naturally rivals for the admiration of the 
young men. 

When asked if the other were not attractive 

Each would say, 

"Yes, she is — But why does she do her hair that way." 

Or, 

"She's quite attractive — but she would be much 
prettier with a different dress." 

Neither would quite admit that the other was abso- 
lute perfection. 

Both were generally considered to be flirts — 

Though kind at heart. 

On one occasion at a dance 

Each happened to glance over her shoulder at the other 

Just a little bit jealously and scornfully. 

Their eyes met 

And then — they both laughed good-naturedly, 

For they understood. 

1915. 

69 



Children's Land 

Come where the children play, 
There shall you know 
Dreams of another day, 
Long, long ago; 
When in the Golden Land 
Likewise you played, 
And on the Magic Sand 
Joyously strayed. 

Oft from your present road, 

Dreaming — you glance 

Back to the old abode, 

As in a trance 

And in your longing eyes, 

Softly the tears 

Tell you that bygone ties 

Hold — through the years. 

Come to the Land of Dreams, 
Memory Land 

Warmly the sunshine gleams; 
Forest and sand, 
70 



Children 9 s Land 

Orchard and shady grove, 
Hillside and plain — 
Call to their early love, 
Come back again. 

So to the Land of Spring: 

Youthful and fair, 

Come — it will surely bring 

Rest from all care; 

Bright is the Magic Sand, 

Forest and plain — 

Come to the Children's Land, 

Dream — once again. 



1914. 



71 




THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS 
GARDEN CITY, N. Y. 



